The Iliad Part 46

Inspire thy warriors then with manly force, And to the s.h.i.+ps impel thy rapid horse: Even I will make thy fiery coursers way, And drive the Grecians headlong to the sea."

Thus to bold Hector spoke the son of Jove, And breathed immortal ardour from above.

As when the pamper'd steed, with reins unbound, Breaks from his stall, and pours along the ground; With ample strokes he rushes to the flood, To bathe his sides, and cool his fiery blood; His head, now freed, he tosses to the skies; His mane dishevell'd o'er his shoulders flies: He snuffs the females in the well-known plain, And springs, exulting, to his fields again: Urged by the voice divine, thus Hector flew, Full of the G.o.d; and all his hosts pursue.

As when the force of men and dogs combined Invade the mountain goat, or branching hind; Far from the hunter's rage secure they lie Close in the rock, (not fated yet to die) When lo! a lion shoots across the way!

They fly: at once the chasers and the prey.

So Greece, that late in conquering troops pursued, And mark'd their progress through the ranks in blood, Soon as they see the furious chief appear, Forget to vanquish, and consent to fear.

Thoas with grief observed his dreadful course, Thoas, the bravest of the aetolian force; Skill'd to direct the javelin's distant flight, And bold to combat in the standing fight, Not more in councils famed for solid sense, Than winning words and heavenly eloquence.

"G.o.ds! what portent (he cried) these eyes invades?

Lo! Hector rises from the Stygian shades!

We saw him, late, by thundering Ajax kill'd: What G.o.d restores him to the frighted field; And not content that half of Greece lie slain, Pours new destruction on her sons again?

He comes not, Jove! without thy powerful will; Lo! still he lives, pursues, and conquers still!

Yet hear my counsel, and his worst withstand: The Greeks' main body to the fleet command; But let the few whom brisker spirits warm, Stand the first onset, and provoke the storm.

Thus point your arms; and when such foes appear, Fierce as he is, let Hector learn to fear."

The warrior spoke; the listening Greeks obey, Thickening their ranks, and form a deep array.

Each Ajax, Teucer, Merion gave command, The valiant leader of the Cretan band; And Mars-like Meges: these the chiefs excite, Approach the foe, and meet the coming fight.

Behind, unnumber'd mult.i.tudes attend, To flank the navy, and the sh.o.r.es defend.

Full on the front the pressing Trojans bear, And Hector first came towering to the war.

Phoebus himself the rus.h.i.+ng battle led; A veil of clouds involved his radiant head: High held before him, Jove's enormous s.h.i.+eld Portentous shone, and shaded all the field; Vulcan to Jove the immortal gift consign'd, To scatter hosts and terrify mankind, The Greeks expect the shock, the clamours rise From different parts, and mingle in the skies.

Dire was the hiss of darts, by heroes flung, And arrows leaping from the bow-string sung; These drink the life of generous warriors slain: Those guiltless fall, and thirst for blood in vain.

As long as Phoebus bore unmoved the s.h.i.+eld, Sat doubtful conquest hovering o'er the field; But when aloft he shakes it in the skies, Shouts in their ears, and lightens in their eyes, Deep horror seizes every Grecian breast, Their force is humbled, and their fear confess'd.

So flies a herd of oxen, scatter'd wide, No swain to guard them, and no day to guide, When two fell lions from the mountain come, And spread the carnage through the shady gloom.

Impending Phoebus pours around them fear, And Troy and Hector thunder in the rear.

Heaps fall on heaps: the slaughter Hector leads, First great Arcesilas, then Stichius bleeds; One to the bold Boeotians ever dear, And one Menestheus' friend and famed compeer.

Medon and Iasus, aeneas sped; This sprang from Phelus, and the Athenians led; But hapless Medon from Oileus came; Him Ajax honour'd with a brother's name, Though born of lawless love: from home expell'd, A banish'd man, in Phylace he dwell'd, Press'd by the vengeance of an angry wife; Troy ends at last his labours and his life.

Mecystes next Polydamas o'erthrew; And thee, brave Clonius, great Agenor slew.

By Paris, Deiochus inglorious dies, Pierced through the shoulder as he basely flies.

Polites' arm laid Echius on the plain; Stretch'd on one heap, the victors spoil the slain.

The Greeks dismay'd, confused, disperse or fall, Some seek the trench, some skulk behind the wall.

While these fly trembling, others pant for breath, And o'er the slaughter stalks gigantic death.

On rush'd bold Hector, gloomy as the night; Forbids to plunder, animates the fight, Points to the fleet: "For, by the G.o.ds! who flies,(240) Who dares but linger, by this hand he dies; No weeping sister his cold eye shall close, No friendly hand his funeral pyre compose.

Who stops to plunder at this signal hour, The birds shall tear him, and the dogs devour."

Furious he said; the smarting scourge resounds; The coursers fly; the smoking chariot bounds; The hosts rush on; loud clamours shake the sh.o.r.e; The horses thunder, earth and ocean roar!

Apollo, planted at the trench's bound, Push'd at the bank: down sank the enormous mound: Roll'd in the ditch the heapy ruin lay; A sudden road! a long and ample way.

O'er the dread fosse (a late impervious s.p.a.ce) Now steeds, and men, and cars tumultuous pa.s.s.

The wondering crowds the downward level trod; Before them flamed the s.h.i.+eld, and march'd the G.o.d.

Then with his hand he shook the mighty wall; And lo! the turrets nod, the bulwarks fall: Easy as when ash.o.r.e an infant stands, And draws imagined houses in the sands; The sportive wanton, pleased with some new play, Sweeps the slight works and fas.h.i.+on'd domes away: Thus vanish'd at thy touch, the towers and walls; The toil of thousands in a moment falls.

The Grecians gaze around with wild despair, Confused, and weary all the powers with prayer: Exhort their men, with praises, threats, commands; And urge the G.o.ds, with voices, eyes, and hands.

Experienced Nestor chief obtests the skies, And weeps his country with a father's eyes.

"O Jove! if ever, on his native sh.o.r.e, One Greek enrich'd thy shrine with offer'd gore; If e'er, in hope our country to behold, We paid the fattest firstlings of the fold; If e'er thou sign'st our wishes with thy nod: Perform the promise of a gracious G.o.d!

This day preserve our navies from the flame, And save the relics of the Grecian name."

Thus prayed the sage: the eternal gave consent, And peals of thunder shook the firmament.

Presumptuous Troy mistook the accepting sign, And catch'd new fury at the voice divine.

As, when black tempests mix the seas and skies, The roaring deeps in watery mountains rise, Above the sides of some tall s.h.i.+p ascend, Its womb they deluge, and its ribs they rend: Thus loudly roaring, and o'erpowering all, Mount the thick Trojans up the Grecian wall; Legions on legions from each side arise: Thick sound the keels; the storm of arrows flies.

Fierce on the s.h.i.+ps above, the cars below, These wield the mace, and those the javelin throw.

While thus the thunder of the battle raged, And labouring armies round the works engaged, Still in the tent Patroclus sat to tend The good Eurypylus, his wounded friend.

He sprinkles healing balms, to anguish kind, And adds discourse, the medicine of the mind.

But when he saw, ascending up the fleet, Victorious Troy; then, starting from his seat, With bitter groans his sorrows he express'd, He wrings his hands, he beats his manly breast.

"Though yet thy state require redress (he cries) Depart I must: what horrors strike my eyes!

Charged with Achilles' high command I go, A mournful witness of this scene of woe; I haste to urge him by his country's care To rise in arms, and s.h.i.+ne again in war.

Perhaps some favouring G.o.d his soul may bend; The voice is powerful of a faithful friend."

He spoke; and, speaking, swifter than the wind Sprung from the tent, and left the war behind.

The embodied Greeks the fierce attack sustain, But strive, though numerous, to repulse in vain: Nor could the Trojans, through that firm array, Force to the fleet and tents the impervious way.

As when a s.h.i.+pwright, with Palladian art, Smooths the rough wood, and levels every part; With equal hand he guides his whole design, By the just rule, and the directing line: The martial leaders, with like skill and care, Preserved their line, and equal kept the war.

Brave deeds of arms through all the ranks were tried, And every s.h.i.+p sustained an equal tide.

At one proud bark, high-towering o'er the fleet, Ajax the great, and G.o.dlike Hector meet; For one bright prize the matchless chiefs contend, Nor this the s.h.i.+ps can fire, nor that defend: One kept the sh.o.r.e, and one the vessel trod; That fix'd as fate, this acted by a G.o.d.

The son of Clytius in his daring hand, The deck approaching, shakes a flaming brand; But, pierced by Telamon's huge lance, expires: Thundering he falls, and drops the extinguish'd fires.

Great Hector view'd him with a sad survey, As stretch'd in dust before the stern he lay.

"Oh! all of Trojan, all of Lycian race!

Stand to your arms, maintain this arduous s.p.a.ce: Lo! where the son of royal Clytius lies; Ah, save his arms, secure his obsequies!"

This said, his eager javelin sought the foe: But Ajax shunn'd the meditated blow.

Not vainly yet the forceful lance was thrown; It stretch'd in dust unhappy Lycophron: An exile long, sustain'd at Ajax' board, A faithful servant to a foreign lord; In peace, and war, for ever at his side, Near his loved master, as he lived, he died.

From the high p.o.o.p he tumbles on the sand, And lies a lifeless load along the land.

With anguish Ajax views the piercing sight, And thus inflames his brother to the fight:

"Teucer, behold! extended on the sh.o.r.e Our friend, our loved companion! now no more!

Dear as a parent, with a parent's care To fight our wars he left his native air.

This death deplored, to Hector's rage we owe; Revenge, revenge it on the cruel foe.

Where are those darts on which the fates attend?

And where the bow which Phoebus taught to bend?"

Impatient Teucer, hastening to his aid, Before the chief his ample bow display'd; The well-stored quiver on his shoulders hung: Then hiss'd his arrow, and the bowstring sung.

Clytus, Pisenor's son, renown'd in fame, (To thee, Polydamas! an honour'd name) Drove through the thickest of the embattled plains The startling steeds, and shook his eager reins.

As all on glory ran his ardent mind, The pointed death arrests him from behind: Through his fair neck the thrilling arrow flies; In youth's first bloom reluctantly he dies.

Hurl'd from the lofty seat, at distance far, The headlong coursers spurn his empty car; Till sad Polydamas the steeds restrain'd, And gave, Astynous, to thy careful hand; Then, fired to vengeance, rush'd amidst the foe: Rage edged his sword, and strengthen'd every blow.

Once more bold Teucer, in his country's cause, At Hector's breast a chosen arrow draws: And had the weapon found the destined way, Thy fall, great Trojan! had renown'd that day.

But Hector was not doom'd to perish then: The all-wise disposer of the fates of men (Imperial Jove) his present death withstands; Nor was such glory due to Teucer's hands.

At its full stretch as the tough string he drew, Struck by an arm unseen, it burst in two; Down dropp'd the bow: the shaft with brazen head Fell innocent, and on the dust lay dead.

The astonish'd archer to great Ajax cries; "Some G.o.d prevents our destined enterprise: Some G.o.d, propitious to the Trojan foe, Has, from my arm unfailing, struck the bow, And broke the nerve my hands had twined with art, Strong to impel the flight of many a dart."

"Since heaven commands it (Ajax made reply) Dismiss the bow, and lay thy arrows by: Thy arms no less suffice the lance to wield, And quit the quiver for the ponderous s.h.i.+eld.

In the first ranks indulge thy thirst of fame, Thy brave example shall the rest inflame.

Fierce as they are, by long successes vain; To force our fleet, or even a s.h.i.+p to gain, Asks toil, and sweat, and blood: their utmost might Shall find its match--No more: 'tis ours to fight."

Then Teucer laid his faithless bow aside; The fourfold buckler o'er his shoulder tied; On his brave head a crested helm he placed, With nodding horse-hair formidably graced; A dart, whose point with bra.s.s refulgent s.h.i.+nes, The warrior wields; and his great brother joins.

This Hector saw, and thus express'd his joy: "Ye troops of Lycia, Darda.n.u.s, and Troy!

Be mindful of yourselves, your ancient fame, And spread your glory with the navy's flame.

Jove is with us; I saw his hand, but now, From the proud archer strike his vaunted bow: Indulgent Jove! how plain thy favours s.h.i.+ne, When happy nations bear the marks divine!

How easy then, to see the sinking state Of realms accursed, deserted, reprobate!